Person of Interest
by Novoux
Summary: "You want information?" Shiki suddenly turns the tables and Izaya's eyes narrow in effect. What is he—"I have information for you, Izaya. Information that you've been looking for," he pauses and Izaya's breath tumbles in held bursts, "concerning Heiwajima Shizuo-san."
1. Smoke and Mirrors

Bright lights and drinking aren't a vice gripping the same drink Izaya hasn't touched from the moment of entering such a seedy establishment. Even if owned by the yakuza it isn't worth the potential of drugs in whatever drink he hasn't ordered sitting across from a client in a hidden booth away from the flashing lights and thankfully—thinly-clad dancers. A pale olive green ripples in the glass with the echo of the bass line from speakers in another room where the same dance routines for the same customers with the same purpose of being here continue on. Only this time Izaya isn't here for any of those. But for the yakuza member across from him drinking a hard liquor mix and sipping quietly against the noise. Fingers curving on the frosted sides of the glass like the questioning arch of his eyebrow and staring at bright lights is starting to make Izaya's head lose track of its thoughts long enough to forget how to focus.

"Normally you wouldn't contact me on such a basis, Nakura-san." Hiyashi speaks, swallowing another taste of the vice in his hand. Izaya doesn't ever care much for drinking if it gets in the way of business, much less having complete control over himself. Alcohol has never appealed as a means of escape like it does to his beloved humans. "But I would suppose this is special, urging the importance of this meeting when not over the phone." Hiyashi shifts and with another raise of the glass to his lips he tips it forward in Izaya's direction for some meaning of significance unimportant and tucked away into the back of Izaya's mind before sipping again. Unlike other regulars, he knows the limits of his own vice. Interesting.

Izaya nods curtly, neither confirming nor denying Hiyashi's statement. "I've an important manner to attend to, Hiyashi-san. As for the spread of your group, it would be beneficial for you to give me any information that you have. Of course, I'm willing to pay any price as long as your information is accurate." Izaya tips the glass in his fingers, glancing down at the liquid from the corner of his eye but never taking his eyes off of Hiyashi who doesn't seem to mind the stare. Hiyashi blinks more often, Izaya realizes, but he never fidgets like many other clients do, which may have to do with the fact of his position in his certain line of work. Not that Izaya necessarily cares what he does until it's important. "Since you're based in this area, you are the only one, it appears, that I can contact for this service."

Hiyashi curls the corner of his lip and his eyebrow raises again. Leaning forward, his dark eyes challenge Izaya's with an amused glint that's more humorous than malicious. Easily changed in an instant. "I'm flattered, Nakura-san. But really, I don't need the reassurance. I already know enough." Waving his hand, he drinks more as if insisting that Izaya is already wearing his patience spread thin enough for being what he is. In a private bar, it isn't hard to guess by the suit and the rings on his fingers stating the warning for members to keep their distance in the shark-infested waters. "The only thing I'm interested in is payment. How would you pay for _my _information, Nakura-san?" Izaya's turn to question—only for a moment with the briefest expression of curiosity until it falls flat because he really isn't. The same routine for the same vice of gluttony most of his clients appear to be afflicted with. Such strange conditions for his humans to exist in.

Izaya pretends to take a sip but Hiyashi shakes his head, giving almost a silent notice that he is not buying the expression of play-pretend in his bar. For the night he owns it and Izaya knows this well when they've planned to meet here where this is the heart of his territory throughout the Kanto region. "What is it that you would want, Hiyashi-san?" Izaya rolls his shoulders to ease the tension of improper posture in between his shoulder blades, feeling pops down his spine. "Be aware that what you ask for is equal in what you give. I run ideally on fairness in my transactions." This gets Hiyashi to spread his lips in a half-smile with whitish yellow teeth, amused and a five o'clock shadow moving with the tanned skin under the dimmed lights.

Another swallow and the protruding Adam's apple bobs with the movement. The glass hits the table in almost a whine of protest when it scratches the wood and Izaya doesn't bother to flinch. "I'm well aware, Nakura-san. Depending on what you ask for, I'll ask in return. However, I don't need your money." Surprised at the sudden turn Izaya does let it show and a slow chuckle comes from Hiyashi who doesn't look affected by the heavy alcohol content of his drink at all. Now he hasn't been expecting this when most men of his position would only be interested in greed, but then again, Hiyashi is more a man of gluttony despite his supposed humble acts unknown to the public eye as a man of the Inagawa-kai. "I'm not interested in money. Being in business for many years with many associates tends to leave me tired of dealing with money. So keep it; I don't need it. Instead, I want to trade in something you can't give to anyone else so freely without a second thought. And I'll return the favor for what you want." Two more swallows and the beverage is drained of its contents, leaving ice to clink against the side of the glass and pushed against the edge of the table.

Exhaling in a slower breath unknown to Hiyashi, Izaya nods with the terms of the new deal coming to mind. "And what would you be interested in then?" The thumps of the floor vibrate in his legs and despite not drinking his head is buzzing with inebriation of boredom and having to deal with days of nothing coming to him. Hiyashi is one of his last chances to take without having to result to more work for an unworthy cause. A mirthful smirk Hiyashi spares in the cunning nature of his job and while almost mimicking Izaya's cause he isn't one for not being accredited when believing his work to be known. Patience is unheard of for a man like Hiyashi which Izaya knows well, unless it can be paid in its weight.

Hiyashi makes a point of glancing at Izaya's untouched glass. "I want to know about you, Nakura-san. You don't have to answer me now, but I want you to take the time to think about it. I have patience." A lie. And mixing in a strange request while not unheard of makes Izaya frown because no, he isn't expecting Hiyashi to care about him at all when presented as a simple informant with plenty of knowledge to share for the right price. But now Izaya narrows his eyes, clearly annoyed when this isn't going to be as easy and if Hiyashi means to be unnecessarily difficult, this is pointless. And still he laughs when Izaya moves in his seat and withdraws his hands from the table. "Think about it, Nakura-san. I'll give you a week to let it settle. This isn't your normal request, isn't it? Well, give some thought to what I'm asking." His elbow rests on the table and his palm holds his head. "If what you're asking for in return for my services is truly what it's worth."

Izaya gets up from his seat, eyes on Hiyashi and the rest of the room around him in case of any sudden movements unplanned. This entire evening, he's starting to suspect, has been wasted for this. Only the small shred of musing over what Hiyashi wants is enough to keep his interest tied at the end of a frayed wire. "I'm not sure if it is, Hiyashi-san." he murmurs to himself and it makes Hiyashi's smirk widen into an infectious grin with the digging bass of speakers drenching the walls. A polite nod of his head in a bow and Izaya slips Hiyashi his business card of silver ink on a black background and Hiyashi continues with the same smile all the way to when Izaya turns to leave.

"Oh, Nakura-san," Hiyashi calls, popping his knuckles while remaining in his seat, "don't bother lying to me."

Izaya turns and gives a smile as comforting as a blank slate and just as meaningful. Of course. "A pleasure doing business with you, Hiyashi-san."

The booming laughter echoes throughout the bar.

* * *

><p>His phone starts to ring when he takes a longer way back to his office. Still in Ikebukuro, Izaya's more alert than before, watching the shadows lazily from the corner of his eye in knowing expectation that what he's looking for isn't going to suddenly appear. He knows better than that, having known the same unchanging information for entire week.<p>

"Calling this late, Shinra?" Izaya continues walking, knowing exactly which street he's on in relation to where his unofficial stop is before reaching his office. Work and Namie can wait when he has an extra hour unspent due to certain activities in a yakuza-owned bar and the unpleasant turn of business. At least he has an offer—of which he can certainly twist to his own liking. But the extra work almost isn't worth the cause. "Does Courier-san even know you're calling someone like me this late? I'm almost flattered."

Shinra scoffs from the other side of the phone in irritation and unamused by the fashion of Izaya's greetings. _"Whatever. And yes, my beloved Celty does happen to know I'm calling you. You should know why I'm calling you now of all times." _As if mentioning the reason is enough to give proper explanation while Izaya pretends to care more about turning down the right street. If he walks another block, he's there. And with no hurry or rush he can take his leisurely time and thoroughly annoy Shinra who he assumes will be explaining shortly. So predictable, his humans are. Shinra as well.

"You're going to have to explain a little more, Shinra. As much as it would be useful, I don't read minds." Izaya tsks, hearing the sigh that comes in return over the receiver and wonders if Celty is nearby, tapping questions Shinra's trying to answer without him knowing. "Unless if you made a new drug, I'd suppose, on giving me that ability. Otherwise I'm not interested in why you're wasting my time." Harsh, but he's had enough of dealing with patience and things that don't concern his interests. This entire week has been full of them and he is still nowhere from the start of the hunt for a certain kind of information not on the streets—as expected.

"_Izaya," _Shinra warns in a lower tone that's almost threatening, _"don't even start with me. You've been playing this game for a week now and it's gotten old. Where is he?" _Ah, so that's what he wants. Luckily and unfortunately enough for the good doctor Izaya _does _happen to know what he's talking about and also doesn't have the answer to the question, which is what he has been so patiently working on for an entire week. The strange part is that it only takes a day to become interested and a week to realize that information is scarce when actually needed on a certain subject without revealing _who _it's supposed to be about. Confusing in a delicate process that no one would happen to understand—unless if he counts Namie calling him a psychopath when he thinks out loud.

"Good question, Shinra." Izaya starts to skip, seeing the building in his sights and internally cheering himself up over how dreary and worn out the entire establishment is. "But the problem is that my information has a price. If you're not going to pay, then I can't help you." Shinra growls and in all good fun it does help with Izaya's worsened mood for the moment of reaching behind the apartment to climb up the emergency stairs and to his destination. Which is just too easy when there isn't security and no deadbeat human or one in debt is going to say much of anything when an intruder doesn't bother them. Humming a nameless tune all the while of skipping up the stairs and around the front door to an apartment number he heads to the back for one window that he knows is the least loud when the lock is picked and the sliding doesn't squeak like mice being crushed in a brutal grip.

"_I know, I know. Everything has a price with you." _Some shuffling that sounds like fingers tapping on a hard surface. Must be Celty if she's the one forcing Shinra to call. _"So name it. Just stop playing around and tell us what you've done. If you killed him—"_ That's going a bit too far and while certainly capable, the insisting is insulting to Izaya's ethical codes he abides to to the point of obsession.

"No, I wouldn't bother." Except knowing who they're talking about, maybe that isn't the full truth. More of what Shinra wants to hear because unfortunately there is no information to spare and if there is then Izaya certainly isn't sharing. "How could you accuse me of such? Well, it isn't like I care whether or not he's alive or dead." Reaching the window and peering in, Izaya only sees the same darkened room he has been greeting for the past week. Annoyed by this he pulls his switchblade, jamming and overriding the block while Shinra rants in his ear of calling him a liar amongst other things.

Finally he hears the squeak of the lock sliding with a push of his fingers. Then comes the window, slowly easing it out far enough for his body to fit through. _"Tell me what you want, since you're insistent enough to lie to me." _Shinra angrily growls and it's amusing on his part while Izaya slips through the window space and into the chilled apartment. To his dimmed hopes, nothing comes at him in blind anger when hearing the break in. Then again, he suspects that no one has been in this apartment for a week, taking the time to look through the bedroom, even the closet and bathroom, moving to the main hallway leading to the kitchen and the front door.

"I have no interest in money, Shinra. You know that." Izaya keeps the growing smirk to himself filling with empty hollows of disappointment when _nothing _is there. No clues, no hints, absolutely _no one _to find and no one to use for the whereabouts leading to anything. All dead leads and it's only been a week, which is incredibly frustrating for only the top informant in the world. In that case, it must be lonely at the top because Shinra sees no haste in getting angry and resorting to treat Izaya like a spoiled child misbehaving, unaware currently and meant to be left in this condition that there is no information to be sold.

"_Izaya, what have you done?" _Shinra finally cools down enough to speak clearly and not mutter to Celty as Izaya slips out of the empty apartment, sliding the window back in place and in an afterthought locking it again. He doesn't want others in his business—and his business _only. "You didn't kill him, right? You're capable of it, but why him?" _What Shinra is really asking, Izaya knowing from the years of knowing him, is _how could you be selfish enough to kill him._ And there is an answer to which Izaya has already given.

"I haven't done anything, Shinra." Izaya picks the main street to head down, needing the cold air to keep his head leveled while frustration starts to heat his thoughts to a stuffy uncomfortable temperature. Shinra only prods the fire and encourages it and while appreciative of the unsolicited motivation, it doesn't do much to let Izaya deal with the information he has in his head to file and sort through. A drink, reminding him of the pale olive-skin color at the disgustingly loud bar reeking of sex and bitter notes of drugs burning on a line under tin foil, is the last thing he needs.

But it's a place to start. "So if you wouldn't mind, I need to get back to work. Try to refrain from calling me out of anger." Streetlights glisten on the wet pavement hit by rain only hours earlier. The image of wet hair sticking to a hot throat and angry eyes drenched in lukewarm rainwater comes to mind and tugs a smile that quickly turns to a scowl.

"_Fine, I'll leave you be. Just remember that if you're going to keep anything from people who genuinely care about him, you'll end up regretting it." _Oh ho. Is that a threat or a promise? Too late to ask, disappointingly enough as if Izaya hasn't dealt with more than his fair share of that, when the receiver clicks and the dial tone curls in his ear and rattles his brain.

The tune on his breath the entire way home doesn't soothe the ache of an oncoming headache. Or the one that results in the knowledge of Namie's lecturing for being forced to stay longer than wanting to. But for a good cause that she nor anyone else can see, Izaya supposes it's worth it in the satisfaction of exacting revenge in kind to this little disappearance act.

Out of habit and never out of mind, he checks his personal phone programmed with one number.

* * *

><p>-Kanra has entered the chat room.-<p>

Tanaka Taro: The rumors say he's been missing for a week.

Setton: Yeah, but it's hard to say for sure. I haven't seen him in a while either.

Kanra: Good evening~! What're we talking about tonight? ( o _ o ; )

Saika: Hello, Kanra-san. We were talking about Heiwajima Shizuo-san.

Kanra: Oh, and what about it? Know anything? I heard he's been gone for a week. ( ・◇・)？

Tanaka Taro: Hi, Kanra-san.

Setton: Hey there.

Tanka Taro: That's what we've been trying to talk about. No one really knows anything.

Setton: Kind of strange, huh? You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, right?

Kanra: Nope! Not at all. Only rumors, but nothing much. What do you think? (((；゜Д゜)))

Setton: I have no idea. I don't get why he would suddenly disappear like that.

Tanaka Taro: Me either. And no one's going to believe those crazy rumors.

Saika: I need to get going. Goodnight, everyone.

Tanaka Taro: Goodnight, Saika-san.

Setton: Goodnight, Saika.

Kanra: Goodnight, Saika-chan~! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

-Saika has left the chat room.-

Tanaka Taro: I need to get going too. It's pretty late. Goodnight, Kanra-san and Setton-san.

Kanra: Goodnight Tanaka-san, see you later~

Setton: Goodnight, Tanaka-san.

-Tanaka Taro has left the chat room.-

-Private messaging mode has been enabled.-

Setton: You really don't know anything, do you? It's just that it's so strange for Heiwajima-san to disappear suddenly.

Kanra: I only know some things, not everything that happens. What do you think happened, Setton-san? One of those rumors Tanaka-san was talking about? (oдo)r**?**

Setton: That does sound a bit ridiculous. Anyway, I'll get going. Have a good night, Kanra-san.

-Setton has left the chat room.-

Kanra: I missed all the fun, didn't I? And I was just about to talk about some of those crazy rumors!

Kanra: Oh well. No fun talking to myself.

Kanra: Goodbye~! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

-Kanra has left the chat room.-

* * *

><p>The lid of his laptop closes with a click and tired fingers rub at the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. Nothing has come up besides finally skirting around the issue to the point of having to give a name and surprisingly most people know that the beast of Ikebukuro is missing. Silence starts to settle in the hum and click of the heating turning off in the building and hours after sending Namie away and researching on his computer through multiple tabs of chat conversations, surveillance cameras, and emails. Even though it's 23:00 he doesn't feel the stab of tiredness in his eyes until he blinks, by then ignoring it like the texts on his phone from unimportant people.<p>

It doesn't make any sense. How could a beast like Shizu-chan suddenly go missing without anyone knowing? Surely his brother would know if his employer didn't, but all security tapes and calls in and out of Kasuka's phone lead to the same conclusion with everyone else: he doesn't know. No one in Ikebukuro knows where a blond brute with a destructive temper and monstrous appearance is. And somehow this means Izaya is wasting his precious time with other jobs on his schedule set aside just to look for the lost idiot because if he doesn't know where Shizu-chan is then obviously it's his business.

Circumstances surrounding Shizuo's disappearance don't help the uneasy tension of no one knowing what has happened. Five blocks away from his apartment complex Izaya remembers a headline of a man found dead in an alley. Not that it's common which doesn't hold Izaya's interest, but the brutality of the man's body keeps him curious as to how it can relate to Shizuo's disappearance. The man, after digging through some police databases and having a couple street eyes paid off, was covered in blood and had broken bones as if he had jumped from the tall building he was beneath, but there was a suspicion still surrounding his death as if the case of a suicide doesn't seem fair enough. For the reason that the breaks are consistent with falling and unusual bruises contradict each other Izaya knows well of the homicide investigation currently underway with one star witness—Shizu-chan.

Which is off, because Izaya knows Shizuo can't kill anyone no matter how hard he tries. That brutish strength while as annoying as it is doesn't have the capability of ending a life. Shizuo would simply beat himself up over it and disappear on his own, but even then there is no connection to the man and Shizuo for Izaya to pursue. Nothing at all, which makes his work even harder. But nothing quite like a challenge, especially if the man looks strangely similar to Izaya in his own image. Well, coincidences aren't entirely unnoticed even by the best informant in the world.

And Shizu-chan suddenly disappearing after the murder isn't normal at all. Five blocks away from his apartment and all of a sudden he's missing while murmurs of his involvement still wrack the Dollars' forums. (Unless if not occupied by mostly everyone ignoring the crazed rants of a certain fangirl Izaya unfortunately happens to know well enough while suggesting that Shizuo and Izaya are somehow in a forbidden relationship and continuing along that line.) Even if trying to make logical sense of it Izaya still finds that if Shizuo isn't involved there isn't a reason for him to disappear so suddenly. But how could an idiot like him be involved? Suddenly murder a man that shared similar features with Izaya because he made a mistake in blind rage? While not entirely off the table, the idea sounds far-fetched enough to persuade Izaya's interest elsewhere.

Yet the body of a dead unknown man—checking the information only to find there is none without an I.D.—still lies in a coroner's office and the area is still off-limits. Izaya can see through any obstacle the police decide to erect in his likeness whether or not they're aware.

The only problem is the fact that Shizuo is missing and there isn't a dead body left behind or any signs of him leaving. All of a sudden, as if one moment minding his own business for once in his apartment doing whatever monsters do, only to disappear the next at the moment of hearing about the dead body five blocks away.

And interestingly enough Izaya knows Shizuo disappeared almost the same day, if not earlier, than when the body was found going by his employer's call history. Then the chase starts and for some reason a week later it's just as exhilarating with an adrenaline rush each time Izaya stumbles on something that may be useful in due time.

His phone rings from his pocket, pulling him out of the silence of his empty office and more aware now that it's far past late. Rubbing his eyes with one hand he holds the phone in his other. "What do I owe the honor, Shiki-san?" Izaya tips in his chair, steeling his voice in the dissolving resolve at the end of ice clinking in a glass of water. "You usually never call unless if it's a job, or I'm in trouble." It isn't to mention that he's at the end of a frazzled rope turning into a lit fuse and if he lets it, his humans may have to suffer a little more. All the price of searching for the beast and they give him nothing to entertain himself while he looks. No leads, no clues, nothing. For some reason it bothers him more than it should only a week after Shizuo falls out from under his radar.

He reminds himself bitterly to applaud Shizu-chan's efforts when he finds the dumb brute. He can't play this game forever if he's expecting Izaya to participate.

"Quit it." Shiki's clipped words rattle like a snake coiling tightly and rearing to strike. What is with him? "I heard that you were looking for information, which is quite the opposite of what you do, Izaya." Not a shred of concern and an apathetic monotone to lull Izaya into a false sense of bothering to pay attention. As his employer, he has to listen to Shiki anyway. But the hint in his words is picked up by Izaya's brain and retranslated into differing messages that lead to one conclusion.

"I'm listening, Shiki-san." Izaya leans back in his chair and he feels his fingers twitching on his desk. Ikebukuro moonlight slowly growing over the ridges of shaded mountains through the windows behind him and he feels distanced from his people below. Watching over them in his godly duty as to not mingle but to test and observe. Shizuo is not there beneath him and bumbling about in the streets. He's not shouting and throwing and destroying like monsters do and the peaceful silence is unnerving like the ticks of a clock.

"You want information?" Shiki suddenly turns the tables and Izaya's eyes narrow in effect. What is he—"I have information for you, Izaya. Information that you've been looking for," he pauses and Izaya's breath tumbles in held bursts, "concerning Heiwajima Shizuo-san."

He tries to not show the shock that ripples to the underside of his fingers when his grasp tightens on the desk. "Do you now?" he murmurs, keeping his tone forced in unamused monotony while a finger clicks on his laptop. This may be just a game Shiki wants to play, knowing Izaya's bad habits stemming from one week exactly. Placing a finger on the pulse does nothing to ease the throbbing race of curiosity and anger.

Luckily Shiki doesn't care much for conversation. "I have a job for you, Izaya. And if you want information on Heiwajima-san, then I suggest you listen up now." he pauses, stifling a sigh and the phone shifts gently from the other end. "You're going to head to the area where that man dropped dead not too far from Heiwajima-san's apartment. From there you will find the cause of death and the murderer and report the information to me. As payment, you get information about Heiwajima-san." Clear-cut and concise; to the point and Izaya feels the smirk starting to stretch across his lips when he listens to Shiki talk himself big. But a murderer? So there is something Shiki does know.

"And what will I get in return concerning Shizu-chan?" Izaya dares to ask when he has room to play—not how little he's startlingly failing to notice—"Other than why you would believe I'm interested in the protozoic idiot." Too many questions at once and forcing them into stifled replies makes his throat burn with fingernails blunt and dull carving into his pang leg when Shiki practically rolls his eyes from over the phone.

"Don't play stupid with me, Izaya. I know you've been looking for him—all of us do. It's not that hard to tell." Shiki clicks his tongue with drawn-out patience wearing thin. "Ignoring me for the past week has gotten you nowhere, hasn't it. You've done this to yourself, Izaya, and the only way you're going to get any more from me is to do as I have asked." Shiki pulls the strings of conversation to suit himself while he knows the information broker is highly unamused. He can't bring himself to care all that much. "You want to know about Heiwajima-san, you do as I say. Don't contact me until you're done." Just as quickly as he gives the final passive aggressive threat the phone deadens and Izaya's left pulling his cellphone from his ear, twisting a frown into muted annoyance. Shiki isn't supposed to have this kind of upper hand when Izaya's the one with information. The veiled threats and pathetic analyzing of what he has been doing has all been—child's play, which is uncharacteristic of the Awakusu-kai. But then again, Shiki doesn't sound anything but angry when he offers information on Shizuo.

Fingers card through his hair and he rests his elbows on his desk, holding his head up while the irritating moonlight burns through the window and into the skin of his back. A sense of burning down his spine and he knows that if he can keep it better controlled this time, Shiki won't have anything to hold over him. All he has is guessing and the unwilling cooperation of Izaya to get what he wants, which is interestingly related to Shizu-chan. What Shiki could possibly want with Shizuo he isn't entirely sure—a first, and more likely to be a last now—as Shizuo doesn't involve himself in anything besides breaking up fights. He's too stupid (until disappearing became a brilliant idea) to know more about what would rather kill him.

Stupid Shizu-chan.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading.<em>


	2. Red-Handed

"Namie," Izaya spins in his chair, bored and bags under his eyes in faint lines when the sun strikes them in the right place of watching the morning rays crawl higher through the windows. "I need you to plan a business meeting with Kichiro Moto. Preferably in the afternoon." The secretary shoots him a glare to kill, falling flat just before his desk while she searches through information to find the businessman Izaya is talking about. She'll remark something, she always does, and grumble while she calls. At least she gets the job done with more or less entertainment or enthusiasm, whichever comes in the form of mockery and haughty words.

There's not much to do, no wandering around Ikebukuro—too busy, but not—not at all able to grab information from any of the Awakusu-kai no matter a job to work for. Nothing at all, because Shiki makes his words entirely clear in stating that he will not divulge any information on Shizuo, meaning that either the blond beast is finally dead or still alive and snarling like the monster he is. The text on his phone, after trying to be polite and oblige to Shiki after the phone call, is from the man himself on the terms of not bothering to contact him (how can there be no jobs from him?) unless if he intends to prove himself. Perhaps he should stop watching the dramas on television so often and inflating his silly ideals.

Not much he can do there. Although degrading, having to be scolded like a naughty dog and since when has he just become a little dog for Shiki to order around? The shift in power Izaya dislikes and for the good reason that Shiki infers his work is no good and therefore has to _prove _himself and his loyalty. Ridiculous and petty, just for some information and the logic in his brain tells him to give it up, he can do it himself, but the only lead on Shizuo is Shiki and while annoying and insufferable it's the only way he can and there's no hope in stopping himself from wanting answers. He can't help but be naturally curious that way. Even for monsters.

More spinning around in circles, hands steeple under his chin in thought and vaguely feeling dizzy from how fast his feet move to push him around and around. Just as he's thinking, moving further and further and further into thought pushing past everything he already knows because nothing is making any sense at all, the how and why don't mix or match—the chair stops, abruptly, and Namie raises an eyebrow with little to no amusement when she regards him in a chilled manner. Whatever, get to the point already because the information and his time are not to be wasted.

"You have a meeting scheduled at one," she says, releasing the chair as if burned and the ice queen retreats, back into her duties that aren't entirely specified (she'll complain anyway, always does) and Izaya doesn't bother to comment, too entrenched in his thoughts—dizzy, not as fun—to think of a clever comeback to be wasted on the witch. Anything insulting doesn't help the current predicament and—_oh_—the loveliest thing about Namie is when he spots the business card of Kichiro Moto on his desk, nearly hidden in the paperwork. Perhaps he should thank her with a photo of Seiji she already has but doesn't realize.

Nah, he doesn't care. Not at all for her preoccupation for a younger brother. As long as he gets what he wants, she keeps her silly little position as a secretary and housewife. That's all she's good for if she's going to be obsessed with her brother.

Izaya grapples the business card, glancing out the window (humans aren't interesting today that's strange) and coming back when again, it's only the early hours of the morning and just in time for most to be heading to their boring day jobs and another day starts for observing and collecting. But today doesn't feel like any other day and neither has yesterday or any day that has gone without information. Nothing at all is right or in the right place because there is no god to watch over the people of Shinjuku and Ikebukuro while there is no monster in Ikebukuro to taunt and tease and laugh at, make a spectacle of just how stupid monsters are. No point, no fun. All meaningless things because the information he has and the worth is apparently just not good enough and quite the insult, as he is the number one informant in Japan. Highly successful, and still dealing with _this._

Perhaps he should invest in a new employer. There are plenty waiting to deal with him and Shiki must not want his services anymore, considering it as calling Izaya's work garbage. Rude and spiteful, especially for everything Izaya has done. Though it's not—it's not worth expanding his trade right now. There's too much in his head to categorize and file on his computer, looking and remembering and sorting every bit of information until he's satisfied and it's not enough until he finds stupid Shizu-chan for the reason his brain is bothered to keep searching. No real point or sense made in the desire to. Simple things, and he rips himself apart and over them searching for and rescuing every piece of information he has.

In a way, he can call it an obsession. But that's preposterous, don't be silly.

A text buzzes on his phone, from the courier when the screen lights up and he reads it. [I have a package for you. Where would you like to receive it.]

"Namie," Izaya pulls on his jacket, paying no heed to the fact she never turns to regard him. "I'll be out today. Do try to get some work done." She makes a face at the bookshelf, never bothering to care if he gives her one last glance, waiting for a reaction, before letting himself out.

[_Meet me in __South__ Ikebukuro Park, __C__ourier._]

Surprisingly, she decides to humor him with some unusual wording. [Be ready for an exchange.]

* * *

><p>There aren't many people today out in the park, a sad fate. Though he's not here for the people as much as he wishes to entertain them with their stupid little desires, waving them in front of their faces as their god and a voice of reason they so clearly lack. And just as so the ones who deny his own godly position are often the ones that aren't human, like Celty and the doctor, or Shizuo. Namie is just too stubborn for her own good to be considered much of anything but a paid housewife. As long as he gets what he deserves from them, he supposes it doesn't matter too much that he can't love monsters. They're ugly, stupid beings worthless on this earth and any other universe. Angry and rabid without infection and constantly destroying every chance he has at enjoying his activities as a god all from simple jealousy. Shizuo would never make a good human and Izaya can't love him, no.<p>

Too bad. Shizu-chan would have never made a good human, simply because monsters cannot become humans. That's how it is. The natural order of things, specifically lined and measured in order to categorize and forever isolate—_himself_—Shizu-chan.

Celty arrives, dismounting from her soundless motorcycle and it's interesting she's nonchalant, people turning their heads to notice but leaving quickly enough. No one wants to be kept in the dealings of a devil and a monster, either being interchangeable when considered for the possibilities that humans themselves can be monsters. Guilty of all their sins, committing to other gods and it's okay, it's fine whatever they do because humans can become monsters but monsters not humans cannot become anything original other than a beast in similar clothing when it tears up light poles and street signs. Snarling, vicious beasts that attempt murder in the first degree from just some haughty teasing.

[What do you know on the murder?] Celty's PDA snaps to Izaya's face, forcing a stilled step back because _she _is the one invading his personal space and he refuses to move. Interesting though for how she starts on a subject that's been on his mind for too long and wondering if it's on the mind of anyone else, dark and storming clouding over every original thought until consuming every resource to stay alive and energized by lack of sleep and sincere dedication. [And no, don't even start with me. Tell me what you know, what's happened, and where Shizuo is right now. Then you get the package.] From her shadows a boxed packaged come forward in one hand, set on her motorcycle and her features are cross, waiting and demanding information _now_ and oh, this is just too funny.

"What's this?" Izaya chuckles darkly, noticing how the resolution of Celty's firmness doesn't fade no matter how much he can advance upon her. "You think I have something to do with that? While I'm flattered, Courier, there's not much I can do for you in that respect. You see, I deal in information—you know that quite well by now. So, isn't it pointless to ask me for information on _anything _without any reason? Not even payment considered, isn't that amateur." His eyes move to the package, looking to see if there are any labels and Celty covers it with her shadows, shoulders firm and stiff and he knows she's angry now. That's the point, if she can't even get a grasp on the business world for herself when she wants something. Though never as much as he needs information.

[You tell me why you've framed Shizuo for murder and where he is. Then you get the package.] Celty holds up the PDA confidently and the sphinx smile on Izaya's face forms, head cocking to the side innocently because in truth, he's quite innocent of everything and anything—those humans know how to get themselves in trouble, but not out of it. Monsters like Shizuo aren't worth the wasted effort anyway. [Five blocks from his apartment. What happened, and why.] Enunciating her words with the jab of her PDA, Izaya figures he must have hit a sensitive topic already. Figures, with two monsters being _friends _with each other.

"Courier, a package isn't any weight if I don't know what you're offering me." Izaya drags on his tongue, heavily lidded eyes when he leans back onto cement bricks and stretches, eyes lazily catching the park-goers fleeing when they see Celty. As early in the morning it isn't there aren't too many to worry about on Celty's behalf, a shame. Her company by herself isn't as fun without people, because she's only typing away and punctuating her silent words with a bite, snake venom sinking into his skin when she practically corners him against the cement with her shadows twisting.

Someone's a little angry. [You're not telling me anything of value. Why should I tell _you _anything if you're going to tell me nothing? I know you know everything that happened, probably that you've done it yourself. So first you give, and you get your package.] Celty taps on her screen, meaning _now _and it's clear the obvious urge to hurry up and spill is affecting her, shoulders setting with a faint tremor of anger. Shizuo's disappearance must be affecting her heavily as well if she tries to buy information from him, especially with her horrible bartering skills.

"And what you currently have doesn't interest me. Did you honestly think I'd be amused by a package, Courier? And what do you think I'd do, accept something so worthless without knowing what it is, for giving information? I'd ruin myself in that state." Izaya's tongue coils when he delivers the particularly cold words, uncaring of Celty's anger when it's none of his concern. All he wants is some knowledge and to know if this is really worth his time if all she's going to do is hold his time hostage. He has much better things to do than sit around waiting for a monster to make up its mind.

Celty pauses, Izaya thinks he's won the verbal spat and moves to release his weight from his palms, digging into the rough cement bricks until the headless monster types again, faster. [It's from Shiki-san. For you. He made it clear that I am not to give it to you until you explain _everything _about what you've done.]

Oh?

Well, that changes everything. Izaya perks up at the words, knowing Shiki and his carelessly callous new behavior, ignoring any attempts of Izaya working for him and oh, this is _rich_ (disgustingly so because they're in on this and he—) to know that Shiki has even recruited his own courier to use against him for the purpose of finding out what Izaya doesn't happen to know. How pitiful that Shiki thinks this will actually work, which could have a one percent chance if Izaya knew anything at all and wouldn't be here meeting with Celty if he did. Stupidity must be a part of ignorance nowadays. A much more common side effect.

"Tell Shiki-san that I send my regards, then." Izaya sighs, glancing at the package draped in shadows and his mind formulates ideas for what could be inside. It looks light, like files or documents or something worth his time than this stupid conversation. Childish and going nowhere as per usual with any conversation involving a monster. "Because I don't have any information on the murder, when I didn't arrange it. Why would I look for Shizu-chan if I knew where he was, ne?" Celty pauses again, narrowed gaze from behind the helmet and he challenges her right back with the glittering blood in his own gaze. "What? You don't believe me? Well, of course not. I have information on nearly everything, but not enough to give to Shiki-san. Why else would I be here if I knew where Shizu-chan was and what the murder consisted of? I don't give my time so freely."

[You're lying.]

Palms beginning to bleed from pressing too hard against the cement bricks he pulls himself upright, turning on his feet after he speaks a last warning to Celty, telling in her reason of not restraining the shadows curling at her feet. "If only I was, Courier. Then I would've killed Shizu-chan after framing him. But seeing as how I'm working, it doesn't look that way at all." Sly bastard, she's probably thinking to herself and there's nothing more to hide. Nothing at all, and even if he can prove it—[Shizuo was in the area. Conveniently during the time of the murder. He didn't have any witnesses, so he couldn't prove anything. A member of a color gang wearing blue saw him in the same area where the murder took place and can testify against him.]

"What are you trying to prove, Courier?" Izaya sighs heavily and feels the blood staining his palms in heavier drops, digging into the concrete with a white-knuckled grip. Celty looks at him, angrily of course and she really can't help it when it involves her precious friend and she's just so convinced it's Izaya's fault.

[Shizuo was there because I was talking with him after I had a call from you. You wanted me to deliver a package to Mikado and I didn't know what was in it.] Speaking of which he does the remember the event, her incessant asking to find out what it is and he sends her a look, telling that she's walking a _very thin line _and it's not her place to ask, so don't even try. She leaves at least and does as he tells her to do, prompting the meeting and _oh, _this must be the reason Shizuo is in the same area at the same time the murder takes place. Because Celty wanted to meet with him.

[There are too many coincidences.] Celty huffs, smoke tumbling from her neckline and Izaya sneers, unable to laugh at how pathetic this conversation—accusation for murder—has gone horribly south. [So tell me now, Izaya. Where is he, and what did you do?] Izaya shifts his weight and his hands release from the cement behind him, bloodied in rivers and brushing them to clear off the dirt and gravel. The blood he can worry about later.

"Maybe something can refresh my memory." Eying the package still wrapped in shadows, ticking with breaths of inhale—sigh—exhale and not angry, not anything but freshly irritated because sometimes monsters are too stupid for him. Celty looks back at him, never takes her eyes off of him but her shadows swirl like cuffs around his ankles, suggesting he's stupid enough to take off. After several more moments of heavy contemplation, teeth grinding while she stares Izaya down with his haughty smirk, head cocked to the side like a paragon of the innocence he never is. He's a contradiction and she knows it too well, but never well enough.

A fatal flaw. [You're staying here until I'm satisfied.] Does she even think of the potential job she's losing? Probably not with Shizuo stuck in her mind filled with smoke, there's not a wonder how she can be so simple-minded in his presence when blinded by anger. A sad fate, traveling along a box that floats in the air and how pathetic it is that there are shadows tightening around his legs. Maybe he's been here for too long, ready to kick back and run as soon as he grabs it but the warning around his ankle keeps him grounded. He has people to get back to, anyway, and Celty just assumes wasting his time is oh so easy.

Taking the package and ripping it open with a pocket knife, he divulges in pulling out items like protected documents, containing images of the murder scene. As soon as he lifts one Celty rigidly steps back, holding up a hand with her head turned to the side. Izaya doesn't see the point until he stares into the first batch of images, noting that on the ground written in blood is a name and the name so written is one Shizuo Heiwajima, giggling to himself as the shadows crawl up his leg. That's why Celty wouldn't want to see the photos? As gruesome as they are, flipping through several series of photos printed and sealed, there is no photo of the body at all and therefore while the bloodstains on the ground are convincing, even up to the pair of shoe marks scuffled on the top of the building from a possible suicide, there's no concrete evidence. Not even the pair of different footsteps, noted as a larger men's size and all of this is just so perfect he can feel the excitement—the thrill of the chase—building in his limbs while Celty looks away and shakes her head.

The elegance of Shizuo's name in blood is certainly fitting for a gruesome murder such as this, blood spiking up the walls and close to a murder or suicide that Celty would be disgusted if she realized how much is on these documents of value. Though misplaced, and the thought doesn't cease to bother him.

[Look through it carefully.] When she sees his amused expression, shadows starting to retreat and wrap around her. [Just find him, and get him out alive and innocent. I'll pay you whatever you want.] She types quickly, eying Izaya up and down and Izaya wonders what's with the change of heart, noticing he's left the picture of a bloody name in her eyesight and cleverly retracts it back into the box. [Shiki-san said this was for you, as long as you could prove to me that you didn't do this and you could help Shizuo.] So that means many things from being blamed for a murder he doesn't plan and that Shizu-chan is so very much _alive _that the expressions coming when they tremble in his fingers and twitch in his muscles he's not sure whether to swallow them down or deny their existence.

"And what of the body?" Celty looks at him as if he's not actually at all serious but he is, sighing with the move of her shoulders and looks around even if there is no one there. One slithering shadow reaches into the box, grabbing the sample with the photos of Shizuo's name written on the ground, ripping open the sealed top and pulling out several hidden pictures. Held in front of his face he can see the injuries and the human—nearly unrecognizable, face hidden by a shadow—with a plethora of severe injuries, other pictures giving gruesome detail.

[The injuries have been suspected of blunt force trauma,] her fingers are trembling when she types, stepping back again and she looks entirely uncomfortable. [Or suicide. You see why he's been suspected, if you didn't do it.]

Izaya laughs, bloodied palms wiped on the inside of his wrists where Celty can't see. "Of course I didn't do it, Courier. Anything else you have to accuse me of?" She huffs, clearly annoyed and he can't blame her for hating to talk to him, always the reluctant one even if she works for him, waving him off with a simple hand and never looking at him again when she makes move to leave. She doesn't care about him at all—no one does. They only suspect him of murder. Trying to place the box with the items down Celty's shadows immediately reach for it, seizing his wrists with another while she takes back the box and he gives her an unamused look, almost marred with bewilderment but growing disappointed in her lack of willingness to cooperate.

[You can't have that. Not until you bring him back.] Which is quite impossible to do without any information at all—what do they even take him for? What does she mean until he brings him back? There's no possible way to get Shizuo or anywhere in this case if she just expects him to use nothing for his work and whether or not he wants to is an entirely different issue she doesn't care about. Shiki-san must love to belittle him when he's annoyed with someone and it has to be him. But—but she's not asking about where he is. Which means she knows more than he does—they all do, they're keeping anything and everything from the danger of an informant—and probably where he is.

Hiding him. And then having time to laugh at him while asking to clear Shizu-chan's name. His eyes narrow into slits, regarding Celty coldly with an icy glare while his feet kick off her shadows uselessly "Then don't expect anything from me, Courier. Do it yourself." Izaya turns to leave, bloodied palms dripping through his fingers when he turns and for this once Celty doesn't stop him, watching as he leaves and not a word or shadow to grab onto him and pull him back when there's no reason why she's called him there in the first place except to mock him for pretending to know nothing when that's all there is to it. The truth—ugly, disgusting, and underused thing—doesn't ring true and neither will it in any crowd willing to suspect Izaya and rightfully so, persecute and ostracize until they're satisfied he can't do much of anything and dangle it right in front of him.

He'll have to cut his losses, then. Move on and forget about bothering Celty or Shiki when all they're meant to do is distract and taunt which is _his _job and while wasting his precious time meant to be observing humans and spent correctly now every single schedule he has is mixed up and overrun with too many thoughts he'll have to sort out. The only thing he can remember to do is the meeting with the businessman at one in the afternoon with a phone reminder. Otherwise, it's better to forget and just try to clear his mind while pretending to not hear the neigh of Celty's bike and how close it may or may not be.

Humans, he finds, aren't always this difficult to deal with.

* * *

><p>Visiting the crime scene again isn't what he plans to do with the time until a meeting, but he finds himself walking the way taped off with crime scene tape and no one attending it, cleaned and removed of any police presence. Most of the area is blocked off which leaves for very few to be in the area and none when Izaya visits. Good. It must mean they're finally beginning to understand when they see an angry god and leave in any direction without annoying him further—he doesn't mean to be so emotional, priding himself on being as cold as possible to virtually anyone, but Celty and Shiki's games aren't always ones to put him in a good mood.<p>

Sad that there's nothing much for him to look at, clean as humans can manage and still filled with dirt he's not able to find so easily. No body, no blood, nothing. All objects questionable removed from the alleyway and leaving the bare minimum as long as Izaya can overturn anything, examining the ground and the walls for anything useful. Nothing comes up, floating and caught in a polluted river of too many thoughts and not enough information to use in any of his examinations for the crime scene and the vivid photographs imprinted in his brain. The same spot where Shizuo's name is written is scrubbed clean, a different color almost noticeable to the naked eye unless one knows what one is looking for, such as the god himself in the flesh wasting his time for Shizu-chan and still coming up with useless information.

Grim shadows set over the area by the time Izaya's cellphone, one of many, starts to ring with an alert. Looking at the time he realizes he's going to be late to the building in another part of Tokyo, quite a distance away and the current time being fifteen minutes to one. He's been distracted—gritting his teeth in annoyance for his stupid little mistakes—and now he's going to be late to his client and possibly be led on or denied even further.

His phone rings with an incoming call. "Izaya Orihara," he answers immediately despite the number's unknown trace, knowing many of his clients to call with a number they think he can't decrypt. "At your service." From the other side a voice laughs, deep and low and immediately Izaya's thoughts recognize the tone from having carefully cataloged the sound in his files throughout his brain of his many clients. "Good afternoon, Moto-san." His lips curl when he smiles, dark and a shot of adrenaline buzzing through him when another chuckle confirms his answer. Always the bright and fun-loving businessman, Moto-san likes to pretend.

"_Good afternoon, Orihara-san." _Kichiro greets from the line, the sound of a car in the background. _"Might there be a location I can come pick you up at? I prefer we talk for a little until we reach my office. Is that alright with you?" _This day, Izaya's starting to perk up and taking a glance at the crime scene, scanning over the walls and making a note to check the roof again as well, is only getting better.

"Perfect. I'm in the area of Ikebukuro, five blocks from the lower area apartment buildings. You would know where those are, wouldn't you?" Izaya picks up his feet and begins to leave, abandoning the idea of climbing up again when the traffic of people begins to pick up and sliding his hood on despite the sunny day it is. Almost peaceful enough without Shizuo bothering him to throw a light pole or stop signs in an attempt to further his stupidity as a pretended righteous cause entirely hypocritical.

"_I'll see you then, Orihara-san. A pleasure to meet with you again." _Kichiro replies, pausing and the silence draws Izaya back to the conversation he's half-listening to. _"I have something else which I wished to speak with you about, though I believe it has its connections to the information you're asking me for. Although I must say, I've never dreamt of a day an informant asked for information."_

Izaya scowls at the dark tone, fingers clenching and breaths evening. "It's not just any information I can pick up easily, Moto-san. The information I'm looking for is highly classified, if not illegal to obtain like most of my work. Though with this murder case," he notes the scabbing on his palms he tries to itch at, making a face at the dirty hands and the analogy of red hands comes to mind. "the victim may very well be alive. I'll see you when you find me, Moto-san."

"_Of course, Orihara-san. Of course."_ Izaya hangs up first, seeing it customary to tune out when his clients become too predictable and full of their own confidence, unaware of the holes they speak around and the ones they create for pitfalls and falling into. Snakes rely on holes, he knows, despite the constant comparison to a flea.

Parasitic, either way.

When the car pulls up to him he's in a different location, texting Namie on his phone who never responds because she's irresponsible, stopping to notice the black car coming up to him and it's not so uncommon as it is unusual, opening a door and the form of Kichiro hidden in the low light. "Come in, Orihara-san. I've been expecting you."

"Moto-san," Izaya greets, taking not one look to notice that the Black Rider may or may not be nearby and this is intentional, as it always is with catching prey when he steps into the car. He knows the certain danger of doing this with Kichiro Moto, an untrustworthy businessman, but he knows where the information he so needs lies, and with an easily manipulated man, the cost of his time may be worth it.

"What information did you want on Heiwajima Shizuo, Orihara?" the question is prompt and Izaya almost laughs for how eager the man sounds, never failing to pretend he doesn't hear the sound of a business deal and the curiosity of another monster.

"An interesting murder." Izaya replies cryptically, accepting the wine glass he knows better than to drink from. Moto understands in the next minute the informant isn't talking yet, sorting his thoughts together while the city of Ikebukuro starts to fade away.

The slim outline of a gun in Moto's pocket keeps his eyes still in the car. His hands are stained with the dirty work of saying too much and with little to be meaningful, waiting for the exchange in which he rips another throat open and searches for the inside, filling himself with humans and their lies, expecting him to believe so little and care for much less. Amusing humans and their scandals of red hands and dried blood he still hasn't managed to get off.

Perhaps it's a warning.

* * *

><p><em>Finally updated, I'll be trying for once or twice a month with this while I fuss over other fics I'm writing. This chapter may be rewritten, but I'll see. <em>

_Thank you for reading._


End file.
